Letting Off Steam
by beyondwonder
Summary: Steve Rogers really needs to learn the meaning of privacy and to wait before bursting through the door like a hero.


It's been ages since I've posted anything here, but I have been working on some other stevexnat stuff. This came in while I was supposed to be writing a paper and demanded to be written. So here goes. Also please excuse any spelling mistakes, it hasn't been beta'd.

"Ugh. These reports are doing my head in. I think I'm actually going cross-eyed," Natasha complained tossing her pen onto the table.

Steve huffed a laugh into his coffee mug as he picked up the next folder from the staggering tower of paperwork they were working on. Placing his mug gently back on the table he glanced over to find Natasha rubbing her eyes vigorously with the palm of her hand. He peered up at the clock on the wall in the communal kitchen. They'd been working in near silence for the last four hours.

"I swear Stark is trying to kill us slowly through mind numbing paperwork."

This time Steve chuckled out loud and sat back in his chair feeling the strain of having to sit still for so long. Tilting his head to the left, he stretched the muscles in his neck until he heard a satisfying crack. Natasha rolled her eyes. "More coffee?" He offered pushing his chair back and heading for the kitchen.

The super spy shook her head and stood up, leaning backwards to stretch out the kinks in her back. "Nah, I think I'm going to go and clear my head for a bit. Meet you back here in an hour?"

Surprised, he looked up from adding a new filter to the coffee machine and shrugged. "Ah, sure… I'm just going to finish this last folder and then I'll go check on the others. I'll make sure their not slacking off in the gym."

"No rest for the wicked then," she quipped and waved him a half-hearted salute before heading across the lounge room and towards the elevator.

Grabbing a banana and an apple from the fruit bowl, Steve headed back to the table they'd been spread out on all afternoon and resumed working.

By the time the coffee pot had finished brewing for the second time Steve had forgotten all about taking a break and checking in on the other members of his team. His snacks abandoned, the Captains jaw had started to clench painfully when his eyes fell upon a blurry surveillance photos. He tugged at the paper clip and scattered a series of black and white photographs in front of him. There, pictures in the left-hand corner of the third photo, was a familiar individual. Dressed all in black save for the white painted X smeared across his chest, was a man supervising the collected efforts of exiled arms dealers loading their payload into the back on an unmarked truck. "Got him," Steve murmured under his breath and picked up the folder excitedly.

Snatching up the photos and stuffing them into the folder, Steve hurried to the elevator and hit the call button with his elbow. After months of cold leads and dead ends there was finally a sighting of the HYDRA agent known as Rumlow. Bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently, Steve tore his eyes away from the files to glare at the red digital readout above the elevator door. Natasha was going to be thrilled. This was what they had been waiting for. This is what they had spent hours and hours of training and whipping the team into shape for.

Finally the elevator doors slid open and Steve bounded into the cart, jabbing the floor that would bring him to their personal quarters. The doors shuffled closed slowly and he turned back to the papers and continued rifling through them to find out any further information.

Fire arms. A tank. Radar equipment. Tactical gear. Trading of illegal drugs. It was all here. Proof that HYDRA was still active and that a small group was acting under the orders of the self-named 'Crossbones'. The elevator reached the right level and Steve hurried over to Natasha's quarters to show her what he'd found. He knew she'd want to call a briefing as soon as she heard and would want to start planning their next move.

Reaching her door, he raised his fist to knock on her door when he heard a strangled cry coming from inside. "Natasha?" He called out, knocking on her door. He tried to door handle, but as usual it was locked. He knocked harder but there was still no reply. Fearing the worst, Steve took a step back before ploughing his shoulder in the door until it gave way. Stumbling in to the dimly lit lounge room, he quickly made his way to her bedroom door and charged through ready to fight.

"Nat, are you alrigh-"

He stopped short, the files he'd been clutching dropping to the floor and spilling everywhere. Mouth open agape, Steve stared dumbstruck as he found his redheaded partner laying naked on her bed, one hand clutching her breast tightly, while the other worked a long silver object furiously between her legs.

"Oh-"

Green eyes snapped open. "Rogers!" Natasha growled darkly, in a tone he'd never heard before but instantly sent all the blood to his waist. Her damp forehead creased as she raised her head from her pillow to level a glare at him. "Get out!"

"Oh my God." Steve gasped finally coming to his senses and slapping his hands over his eyes. "I'm sorry," he spluttered, whirling around and attempting to exit her room blindly. He crashed into her set of draws by the door and mumbled his apologies as something heavy crashed to the floor and smashed. "I thought you were in trouble. I'm sorry." He continued to stutter and opened his eyes enough to find the door way and bolt out of her quarters. The sound of her gasp and the object buzzing nosily between her legs haunted his ears until he slammed her broken door shut behind him.

Still panicked, Steve headed for the stairwell and burst through the door. Images, now permanently seared into his brain, made his heart beat faster as he recalled her flushed red cheeks, her creamy thighs trembling, the pink puckered scar on her stomach, the smooth mound slick with… "Shit. Shit. Shit." He continued to leap down the stairwell, taking the next set in one whole leap. He was nearing the bottom of the complex, yet made no effort to slow down as he bound towards the emergency fire exit door that lead out onto the quad.

He needed fresh air. He needed to stop thinking about how dilated her pupils looked when her eyes slid open to look at him, how dark her green eyes had been, how her gasped made his ears burn with the intensity and intimacy of it all.

"Yo, Steve! You alright man?"

Steve barely saw his friend as he sped past him and shifted into an all out sprint. He knew he probably looked ridiculous but he didn't care as he streaked across the squad and towards the dirt track that wound through the trees encasing the secret Avengers base. His breath was coming out in deep pants now, an intensity of effort that he hadn't experienced since their last battle in Sokovia.

Sokovia. His mind instantly took him to the image of Natasha standing on the crumbling rock beside him, talking about the view, the air whipping through her short red locks. He thought that it was it. His time. They were going to die side by side in battle.

Steve cleared the fallen tree blocking his path in one leap. Her hair wasn't as red now; it had lost some of the darker color as it had grown out. The Captain shook his head in frustration as he mind moved to how the low light of the bedside table lamp had illuminated the auburn strands as they lay spread out on her pillow. He imagined sketching the way her neck was arched and how her teeth had bit down sharply on her luscious red lips as she suppressed another moan.

The quad came back into view and Steve realized he'd already made the first lap in less than a minute. He continued on, trying to clear his mind and think of nothing but the scenery around him and the beat of his heart in his chest. He had to calm down. He had to push the images of his best friend and work colleague from his mind or else the erection pulsing painfully between his legs would never go down.

How was he ever going to look her in the face again?

How was he, Captain America, ever going to look at her in her black cat suit ever again and not think about what he knew was under the thick kevlar like material? Knowing that her perfectly pert nipples where grazing the insides of her suit or that all he wanted to do in that moment was dive onto that bed, rip her hands away from her legs and bury himself inside her.

He shook his head, attempting to shake the thought free. He couldn't think of her that way. He couldn't think such derogatory thoughts. She was his partner. His colleague. His friend. She was Natasha Romanoff, spy, Black Widow - probably the worlds most deadliest woman. She could kill him in more ways that he could count if she knew the things he thought about her. It was completely inappropriate and he was ashamed that he harbored such thoughts about her.

The quad was coming into view again and he continued with another lap. His legs where starting to burn, his quads pushing through the pain as he continued at a break neck speed. He knew he should slow down, yet the pain helped divert the thoughts and the blood from his groin. The more his lungs burnt the more his erratic heartbeat was starting to settle into a more even pattern. Yet despite this, thanks to the super solider serum, his head still raced with a million thoughts.

Baseball stats. Regulation numbers. Movie titles he'd yet to see. Dead kittens. He tried to think of everything and anything to override the tantalizing images continuing to replay in his brain. He growled under his breath knowing that he was the worlds biggest idiot and coward because he was honestly considering spending all night in the forest rather then go back inside the facility where she was. Where she might still be. On her bed. Her hands working faster between her legs. Growling his name. Oh God, the way his name had sounded on her lips. He wanted to hear it again and again. He wanted to earn that growl. He wanted to hear it against his ear.

No.

He had to stop. He was a disgrace. His mother was probably rolling in her grave. He couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- think of her like that. They were team mates. He had no right to think of her like that. He had invaded her privacy. She was probably going to kill him. He hoped she did kill him. Preferably with her bare hands…

"Dead kittens. Dead kittens. Dead kittens." He gasped to himself and pushed himself to run even faster. If he was lucky he might bust a lung and have an excuse to go to the hospital wing and possibly never ever see her face again.

Natasha watched the maintenance crew as they applied and fitted a new door to her quarters. Hands folded over her chest and Steve's abandoned files tucked under her left arm, she swallowed a smile when she heard the elevator door open.

"Are you sure you're alright, man? You don't look so good."

"Sam, I'm fine." Steve insisted, limping out of the elevator. He stopped short when he spotted Natasha leaning against the wall. Despite the bright red cheeks he was sporting she saw the rest of his face pale. She raised a questioning eyebrow when he refused to meet her eyes.

"What have you boys been up to?" She asked, pushing her self off from the wall and walking towards them.

"Nothing much. Cap here just decided to imitate the roadrunner that's all. Hey, what happened to your door?" Sam pointed to the men finishing screwing her door back on its hinges.

"Oh that?" Natasha asked motioning back to the door with her thumb. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as Steve resolutely stared at the floor. "It's nothing. Just a little misunderstanding is all."

Sam titled his head to the side and then glanced between his friend and Natasha. His face crinkled with confusion yet he got no further explanation from either teammate. "Ooookkkay." He noticed Steve was taking a great interest in his footwear and held his hands up in defeat. "I'm guessing there's a story there that isn't any of my business." When neither party said anything he took a step back. "Right. Well I'm going to see whose up for Chinese tonight. I guess I'll catch you two later?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Steve muttered still not looking up from his feet.

"Count me in." Natasha agreed warmly and unfolded her arms.

"Right. Ok then. This isn't completely weird and uncomfortable at all." Sam commented with a grin and left the two with a shake of his head. He stepped back into the elevator and sent Natasha one last quizzical look before disappearing behind the closed doors.

After a beat of silence, Steve cleared his throat and jerked a thumb at his quarters. "Umm, I'm going to go shower. Because of my run. I'll, ahh, see you.. umm later. I guess. Maybe. Downstairs." He turned away from her and headed to his quarters, fumbling as he unlocked the door.

"Steve?" Natasha called out when he finally got the door open and headed inside.

"Yeah?" Steve squeaked in a decidedly masculine way. Natasha tried to bite her lip to suppress the smile trying to escape. He cleared his throat and looked up, staring at a space behind her shoulder.

"The file you dropped earlier." She held it out to him and tried to catch his eye as he numbly took it from her. When he refused to make eye contact still she rolled her eyes and released an exasperated sigh. "For Godsake Rogers, next time just remember to knock first, ok?"

"I did!" He protested lamely and motioned to the door behind him. "You didn't answer. I thought-"

"You thought what?"

"I'm sorry. I _really_ didn't mean to walk in and find… well.. and you were… I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I _swear_ it."

Natasha shrugged, a smug smile curling at the side of her lips. "That is unless I invite you next time."

That got his attention. He looked up at her, his cheeks flaming red. "What?"

"Enjoy your shower, Rogers." She turned on her heel and walked back over to her door, her hips swaying in an exaggerated matter. She heard Steve gulp and she looked over her shoulder and sent him a wink before turning back to the maintenance men who where finishing up.

Steve's door slammed shut and she released a laugh. She doubted she'd be seeing the super solider at dinner that night.

Thought & feedback always appreciated :D


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